


Flash Focus

by valkyrienix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:16:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrienix/pseuds/valkyrienix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your first experience traveling through time is probably your scariest.  You’re thirteen, and in the middle of a strife with your Bro, and for once you think you might have a chance at winning.  The Texan sun beats down above you, relentless and agonizingly hot.  You’re both slicked with sweat, but you both play it off like it’s not even there.  Striders are too cool to sweat, and you’re certainly not going to make him think that you even notice.  Still, where his breath comes out in normal puffs, you’re panting like a dehydrated dog.  You might as well be though.  Your throat is dry from heaving air into your lungs, and your tongue sticks uncomfortably to the roof of your mouth.</p>
<p>“Come on,” Bro says, and he’s smirking.  “Do you have that last drop in you, l’il man, or are you too tired to give me a final blow?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im trying out a johndave fic!! enjoy c:  
> (don't worry ill still be working on Blind)

_You aim your camera, focusing on the blue of his eyes. It stuns you that such a blue can even exist on a human being. Sometimes you think that there’s no way this dude is even real. You think you could get lost in his eyes, but they’re like the wind. They change, and they always blow you back to the surface before you can really go anywhere. It’s like him. He’s always changing. Not himself, but what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. His thoughts are one constant train on schedule to never stop. Not even for you._

Snap.

_You take the picture. He blinks through the flash, and laughs. You smile in return, and tell him to pose his stupid ass up again so you can get a decent shot this time. He’s too busy laughing, so you snap another picture. His eyes are still closed, but he looks perfect. You like when you capture real emotion on his face._

_“You piece of shit,” you say, but you’re grinning as you fall back next to him into the grass. It’s wet and cold, making your shirt stick to your back. The blades cut into your arm as you turn over and look at him. He’ s wiping tears from his eyes, still sporting that big, doofy grin._

_You reach over to grab his hand, to tell him that there’s no need to cry over what a hot piece of ass you are (or something the asshole side of you wants to say), but suddenly he’s not there and you’re falling through a gaping hole. You catch glimpses of a green sun, and of a giant monster with a green skull for a face. You see a planet covered in lava, and another world entirely composed of blue rocks and lakes. You’re falling through time, and you’re never going to reach the end._

== >

Your first experience traveling through time is probably your scariest. You’re thirteen, and in the middle of a strife with your Bro, and for once you think you might have a chance at winning. The Texan sun beats down above you, relentless and agonizingly hot. You’re both slicked with sweat, but you both play it off like it’s not even there. Striders are too cool to sweat, and you’re certainly not going to make him think that you even notice. Still, where his breath comes out in normal puffs, you’re panting like a dehydrated dog. You might as well be though. Your throat is dry from heaving air into your lungs, and your tongue sticks uncomfortably to the roof of your mouth.

“Come on,” Bro says, and he’s smirking. “Do you have that last drop in you, l’il man, or are you too tired to give me a final blow?”

Your grip on the hilt of your sword tightens, the leather rubbing on the skin of your palms. It feels like the sword might fall out of your hand with how slick your palms are, but you know you don’t have to worry about letting go. Your brother has taught you so much about swordfighting that letting go was never an option to begin with. Your sword is part of your arm and your arm is part of the sword. You think with mild amusement that he might have gotten that out of an anime, but you can’t really be sure.

You don’t bother to respond to his taunts, however. You stand there for a moment more, calming your breathing and honing your focus. He watches you from behind his pointed glasses, waiting. You charge.

Well, you try to. One second you’re running towards him, your sword in the perfect position to slice at him, and the next you’re falling from the sky. Air rushes past you and you can feel gravity pulling you downward towards the ground beneath you. Panic sets in and you can feel yourself begin to hyperventilate. You can actually feel yourself doing a lot of things, but your mind isn’t even sure this is real, so you dissociate. You let your body take care of itself while your mind sits back and denies that this is even possible. 

You’re falling back first, and part of you realizes this is probably the worst way to fall. You could paralyze yourself. You turn your gaze away from the sky, and you face the ground. There’s dry grass and sand beneath you, a dead sort of beige. You squeeze your eyes shut, preparing to get thoroughly damaged.

Instead, you fall onto your face against pavement. Bro’s above you, saying your name over and over again. His voice is rife with panic as he speaks, pulling you upward and against him. “Jesus shit,” he says, “Don’t ever fuckin’ scare me like that again.” 

You sit there stiffly, disoriented and confused. Your mouth even more dry than before and your lips cracked. All you can manage out of your mouth is a choked, “What?”

“You disappeared, you dumbass,” he says, and he thumps his fist on your back, causing you to cough for what seems like a century.

“Disappeared?” you finally manage upon catching your breath, and he nods, lips pressed together in a thin, apprehensive line.

You both spend the better part of an hour trying to figure out what the hell happened, and Bro jokingly decides you’re now the main character of an anime. After that, you tell him to screw off, and the two of you separate to do your own individual hobbies. The next day, neither of you bring it up, so you think it’s a dream.

The next time you time travel, you’re with your friend Jade. It’s your sophomore year in high school, and the two of you are walking home from school to an ice cream shop. It’s hot, like usual, and your backpack presses your already sticky shirt to your back even more. The sweat cascading down your face has your shades continually slipping from the bridge of your nose and you continually have to push them back up.

Jade’s talking a mile a minute about this new video game she’s been playing and how she thinks you’d really like it. You’re only half listening, the prospect of ice cream distracting your brain and the only thing that’s really keeping you going. You almost wish Bro could pick you up in his horribly ironic Prius (even you have a line you don’t cross with irony, and driving a Prius is a serious no-no), but ice cream’s worth more than being seen in a shitty car like a Prius.

She doesn’t even seem fazed by the heat, but then she wears clothing that’s appropriate for the weather whereas you stick to your usual black skinny jeans and some form of T-shirt or something with long sleeves. You’ll be damned if anyone catches your too-white ass in shorts.

She pauses in her jabbering as you reach the curb and she tells you to press the button so you both can cross the street already. She’s bouncing on the tips of her toes, green sneakers leaving the pavement as she eagerly waits. She turns and peers down the road, watching the cars go as you nod and go to press the button.

You jab your thumb on the button, the hot metal stinging your skin. She turns back and smiles at you, her teeth bright in the sunlight. You smirk back (because Striders don’t smile), and take your thumb off of the button. The minute you do, however, you’re no longer on the same street. It’s not paved, it’s dirt. The buildings seem different, too. Old-fashioned. There’s no gleam of city glass or noises of impatient drivers. You hear people chattering and horses neighing in the distance. It’s blissfully quiet.

The inside of you is much different. You’re panicking. Your thoughts are fuzzy and your body is tensed up as you look around frantically, trying to find Jade, but all you see is a man with a mustache looking at you with absolute terror.

“Uh…” you stand there for a moment, staring at him from behind your shades, and he starts to shout and reach for you, but you’re back on pavement again, falling to your knees. Jade’s hand, somehow still blissfully cold, grabs on to your arm, helping you up and holding you steady. You keep your breathing even and calm, but inside you’re still a mess of emotions.

How the hell did this happen again? You thought the first time had been a dream. Neither you nor Bro had ever said a word more about the first time, and that had been so long ago? You must still be dreaming. Either that, or completely psychotic. Your brother, too. He’d actually seen you disappear. Jade probably hadn’t.

“Dave, do you remember, too?” she breathes excitedly, and she’s bouncing on the tips of her toes again, skort swishing from side to side, revealing the attached shorts.

“Remember?” you say, and you raise a brow. You collect your emotions and smash them into a tiny ball, stuffing them into some deep pocket in your brain, to be sorted and erased later.

“Sburb.” When you remain unresponsive, she throws her head back and stares at the cloudless sky, groaning. “ _Dave_ ,” she says, her voice whiny. “C’ _mon._ ”

You shrug, and shoulder your backpack into its proper place, thoroughly bewildered. “Dunno what you’re talking about, Harley,” you say, and the light across the street at last turns white, the stick figure propelling your feet forward and off the pavement to the asphalt. Jade follows close behind, silent. When you’re halfway across the street (fifteen seconds left), she pipes up.

“You just time-traveled you know.”

You don’t say a word.

“ _Dave._ ”

“How do you know that,” you say flatly, and step up on to the sidewalk. There’s five seconds to spare.

“I just do! Trust me!”

You just shrug, and quicken your pace for the ice cream shop. She catches up and opens her mouth, but you shoot her a look, lips dipping downward and back up again. Her mouth closes, but you can tell she wants to say quite a bit more. You decide if this ever happens again (you firmly believe it won’t), you’ll consult her.

It does happen again, though. Later that day, you’re at her house playing video games. The ice cream’s long since been eaten, and you’re both cooling off further with at least three fans blasting air into your face. She’s gathered a nice pile of stuffed animals and you’re both lazily draped across it, fingers flying away on the paddles to her Playstation. You’re kicking her ass in Mortal Kombat like the pro you are.

And then you’re not even in her pile, but sitting in an empty room with a little boy peering up at you curiously. He has to be four or five. Six tops. His glasses make his blue eyes seem obscenely large, and his pearly white teeth protrude slightly from his upper lip. His shock of black hair is obscenely messy, but his clothes are nice and expensive looking. You stare back.

“‘lo!” he says after a moment, and he smiles.

“Hey,” you say, taking a long blink from behind your shades.

“I’m John,” he says, and his smile widens.

“Dave,” you say.

“Nice to meet you!” he says, and he sticks out his tiny, chubby hand. You grasp it, and he practically beams. But then you’re falling through time again, and you end up on top of Jade’s stuffed animals, disoriented and filled with a sense of longing. She raises a brow, mouth turning upward in a smug smile.

“Now do you want to know?” she asks.

You nod tightly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for delays or w/e im graduating high school soon so ive had a lot of stuff to do

You want to try again.

It’s dark now, and you’re the only one awake. You’d asked Bro if you could stay over at Jade’s for the night. He’d agreed, but not without making a joke about the two of you getting dirty. You’d hung up. 

Now you sit with your blankets twisted around you, restless and unable to sleep. The soft fuzz of the blanket closest to your body runs over the skin of your legs. Where that would normally soothe you, it grates.

Jade’s asleep, curled and buried among a pile of blankets of varying bright colors. Blue, red, purple, green. Your thoughts trail back to what she’d told you earlier. Sburb. A shudder runs through you, and briefly you glimpse yourself, dead, a gash running through your neck and your eyes a dull white. You gasp, pulling the blankets closer, hands tracing your neck, making sure you’re still alive before taking a deep breath. Jade had said you only needed control. Control the ability, and you wouldn’t have to experience it ever again.

“If,” she’d said hesitantly, “that’s what you want.”

At the time, you’d nodded. Yes, definitely. Anything to stop you from disappearing and going back in time. What if you got stuck because you couldn’t figure out how to come back? What if you went so far back that you got killed by a goddamn dinosaur?

You scoff at that, rolling your eyes and lying back down, but worry still curls uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. And yet, even with that worry, you want to try again. You want to feel that rush of going through that other dimension. Well, you assume that it’s another dimension. That’s what Jade had said. She’d explained to you that she had her own special set of powers from the game having to do with space. You hadn’t really believed her until she’d made your shoes two sizes too small and you’d almost squeaked (winced) in pain. You think that’s where you’d wanted to try it again. To learn how to control your powers just as well as Jade. And use it. Something deep in your chest wants to go back in time again. Something in you wants to see that little boy with the glasses and overbite. Something inside you is begging to be recognized. You squeeze your eyes shut, shaking yourself free of your ridiculous thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you try to fall asleep, and eventually, you drift off, but not before tangling your sheets around yourself further.

== >

_You give the asshole a punch in the arm, frustrated but laughing nonetheless. You’re soaking, the water from the prank having successfully drenched you. He’s giggling, hiding his toothy grin behind his guilty hands. “You bastard,” you mutter, shaking your wet hair like a dog. “You ruined my favorite jeans. These things are gonna be so fuckin’ tight later.”_

_He only laughs more, speaking between breaths of coherency. “Your face, Dave! That was so uncool!” His blue eyes glitter as tears of laughter begin to form in his tear ducts, and soon they’re streaming down his face. You want to kiss him._

_So you do. You grab him, taking his soft hand in yours and pulling him towards you. He slams against your chest, nearly knocking the breath out of you (he’s good at that, for more than one reason), but you don’t give yourself time to feel your breathlessness because you’ve brought his mouth right to yours and you’re kissing him on the lips as hard as you can. He shuts up real quick after that, gasping and pulling you closer. It feels like fire to your cold lips, his body flushed against yours. Something in your heart aches. The two of you are too far apart, even this close to each other, not a single inch of space apparent between your bodies._

_You realize at that moment that you’re alone. John isn’t there, and you’re alone. You’re alone on a planet full of lava and lizards, with only yourself for company. You feel alone. So fucking alone._

== >

Jade’s still asleep when you wake up, so you get up slowly, tugging on your jeans over your boxers, the rough fabric against your skin feeling better than the velveteen of the blankets. You’ve decided that you’re going to practice right there. The cool metal of your shades sliding up your nose makes you shiver, but you think you might just be nervous for this.

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut as you prepare yourself. You imagine the sensation; the wash of goosebumps over your body, the ice water against your skin. You picture the little boy with the big blue eyes behind those square frame glasses and the overbite, his shock of black hair, how much he resembles the boy from your dreams.

With that, you’re flying through time again, your body hurtling like a baseball through a field. And then you’re right there in the room again. It’s not empty anymore, though. In fact, it’s filled with clutter. A large bed sits in the corner against the wall, the blankets a dark shade of blue. Movie posters that were from seventy years ago decorate the walls. Charlie Chaplin’s face stares at you from above the bed, eyes wide and mustache as lively as ever. His picture has been framed. The rest of the room hosts a dresser, cluttered on the top with various necessities like a brush and some antique--well, in your time anyway--hair gel. There’s a desk, papers scattered over the entirety of it, with a couple of pens lying crooked on top.

And on the bed is the boy from your dreams. He’s your age, now, you think. His hair is just as black though, eyes just as blue. His smile is even toothier than when he’d been the little boy you’d seen yesterday. He’s dressed in black overalls, feet peeking from the bottom hems in gray socks. A book is open in his lap, abandoned. His brilliant blue eyes are now focused on you.

“Dave,” he breathes, and shocked smile still plastered over his face. “You’re back.”

“Um,” is all you can manage before he’s hugging you, wrapping his warm arms around you tightly. His thumbs draw small circles into your back, and you gasp at the familiarity with which he holds you. No one holds you like this. Not even Jade. She holds you like she’s afraid she’ll shatter your coolkid image if she touches you too much. Or maybe she doesn’t want to get sucked back in time with you?

“Gosh, I missed you!” he breathes against your neck, and his arms encircle you even further than they already are, squeezing the breath out of you. The smell of his cologne fills your nostrils, along with starched clothing and if you’re not mistaken, blueberries (another quick glance of the room tells you you’re right--there’s a small box sitting on the dresser, contents half gone).

He pulls away after a few moments, frowning. His nose is scrunched up in what you’d almost say was displeasure, but you opt for confusion when he bites his lip and looks you up and down. You expect your response wasn’t what he’d hoped for, but instead he says, “You look different.”

“Different,” you repeat softly.

“Younger!” he replies. “Last time I saw you, you must have been at least twenty!”

“I’m fifteen,” you say bluntly.

“Last time, you told me you were twenty one!” he argues, folding his arms over his chest.

“Last time I saw you, you were five,” you say, and anxiously pick at a loose thread in your jeans. The string comes free, slipping into the palm of your hand for you to fiddle with.

His frown deepens, but then his eyes light up, sparkling at you with recognition. “This is only your second time, isn’t it?”

“Second time doing what?” you say, and you try to keep your voice casual and even, but it cracks when you say “doing.”

He doesn’t seem to notice, because he starts to talk rapidly. You think of Jade as soon as he starts to speak, hands flailing animatedly and mouth moving a mile a minute. “Alright, so, you see, you first time traveled here when you were fifteen, right? And I was five years old! We’d just moved here from New York because Dad wanted to get away from the family business a bit! Start up his own! That kind of failed though, so he still comes up with recipes for Betty Crocker.” At that, he makes a face, sticking his tongue out in disgust, but then his face is cheery again, and he’s speaking quickly again. “But anyway! The next time I saw you I was ten, and you were about twenty-one! You said you’d made some error in your calculations or whatever, and you had to go back, but I recognized you! So I asked if he’d--well, you, but a different a you. A future you. Anyway, I asked if you wanted to stay, at least! And he kinda looked at me funny and then said, yeah sure. So we spent the whole day together! You gave me this!”

He turns, spinning on his heels and fumbling in one of the drawers. He pulls out a ridiculously tattered bunny, one of the button eyes nearly falling out. You recognize it, though. Your bro gave that bunny to you when you were three. You had been having nightmares, and he’d said that the bunny would help. It did.

“It was pretty great,” he continues on, and he gently places the bunny on the bed, turning back to you. “But then you had to leave. You said you had some pretty important business to take care of. You promised you’d come back though. And here you are!” He grins, spreading his arms outward.

“Yeah, I was practicing my uh, traveling skills,” you say, and you look anywhere but him. His level of intimacy is something you don’t think you can handle. Even Jade knows there’s a boundary that she’s not supposed to cross--she likes to tiptoe it though, and you’re thinking it’s only a matter of time before she crosses it.

“Do you not know how to?” he asks, and you glance up. Now he looks more surprised than ever, mouth forming a little “o.”

You chuckle (you don’t laugh, Striders don’t laugh). “Of course I know how to! But you know, skills get rusty and you gotta make sure that you keep up the practice or next time you try you may end up in 300 B.C. and get maimed by Spartans or some shit like that.” He gasps a little, and you realize that maybe swearing isn’t exactly normal in his era. “I mean,” you continue hastily, stumbling forward like the idiot you are, “that would be pretty terrible and then you could get killed or enslaved or something shitty like that”--fuck, you swore again--”and then because you hadn’t practiced enough you couldn’t save yourself and then you’re stuck in some shitty era and some shitty situation”--you are so _stupid_ \--”and that’s pretty much the end of life as you know it.”

He’s frowning again, tapping his foot thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’d end up in Sparta, Dave. Not unless you could manipulate time _and_ space. You told me you can only time travel back to the exact spot where you’re standing. It’s kind of logical that way, though, if you think about it.”

“Right, obviously,” you say, quickly, trying to mask your lack of knowledge on your own power. “But like, hypothetically speaking, something like that could totally happen if I didn’t practice.”

“But here,” he says slowly. He plants a finger in his palm as if to clarify what he’s talking about. “In Texas.”

You nod, trying your best to stop the rush of blood to your cheeks. “Right. In Texas. I mean who knows I could get mauled by some wild animal or something.”

“I think the more likely thing is you would probably die of heat stroke or lack of water. Or food,” he says, a small smile playing at his lips.

“Dang there, John, that’s pretty grim,” you say. “Can’t think of anything happier for my supposed fate if I go too far back and get stuck?”

He snickers and shakes his head, nose crinkling in amusement. You find yourself caught up in staring at him as he laughs and you remember your dream. Your chest tightens, airways narrowing down to slits as suddenly the idea of losing this boy occurs to you. _No, no, no. No._ Desperately, you reach for him, hands outstretched, breath short, as you attempt to grab at his arm. He stops laughing, staring at you with wide, terrified eyes. You miss entirely, and then you’re being flung through time again, the feeling of cold water sliding over your skin and goosebumps covering the entirety of your body.

You fall into your blankets on Jade’s bedroom floor, shivering and confused. Jade stands above you, foot tapping expectantly. A single brow is raised, her mouth twisted in what you might call motherly disappointment if it weren’t for the fact that it kept twitching upward as she tried to hold back a smile.

“‘Sup, Har,” you say as nonchalantly as you can manage, and you give her The Strider Smirk™.

She breaks out into a grin, and collapses to her knees beside you, nightgown fluttering down with her. “You. Are. So. _Dumb,_ ” she says in between punching your arm. You shove her off, grunting, but she’s back on you again, tackling you to the floor and holding you down. Under normal circumstances, you’d have tried to get out of her grip--and you’d have done it pretty easily, too-- but she looks at you seriously now, the corners of her mouth turning downward at a terrible rate.

You think vaguely for a moment that her mouth looks almost like that boy’s.

“Dave, you can’t just time travel like that without any practice! What were you thinking?” she exclaims, green eyes dark with her unholy fury.

“Um,” you say, glancing at her hand. It’s next to your head, pressed against the carpet to keep her steady. Her nails are painted an electric green with red polka dots. You could easily knock her over from this position, seeing as your arms are free, but you don’t. Instead, you say, “I wasn’t.”

She groans, tilting her head back and sliding off you, only to roll over and lie next to you on the ground. “Look, you dumb asshole, you can just go flying through time like some idiot! They do that on T.V. shows all the time sure, but this isn’t some T.V. show! This is real life!”

“Yeah, I’m way cooler than those assholes on television,” you say, keeping your focus on the ceiling. There’s nothing much to look at, just the fan and her lights. They’re each a different color. Red, blue, green, purple. She really likes those colors, and you’re not particularly sure why.

“That’s not the point,” she says, capturing your attention again. Her fist connects with your arm again in a half-hearted punch, and she continues on. “Look, you could’ve gotten stuck back there. Or worse, you could have seriously screwed up time! Haven’t you ever read _The Butterfly Effect?_ ”

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding slowly. “In English class, freshman year.”

“Alright, well then you know that one stupid move could totally ruin the entire future!” she replies, and you feel the ground next to you vibrate as she thumps her fist downward for good measure. “So, you need to know how to time travel without screwing things up.”

“Look, Jade,” you say sighing, eyes glazing over as you lose focus on the ceiling. “I don’t think there’s any of that timeline bullshit like there was back in the game. Or whatever you were talking about when you explained this stuff to me. I think that whatever’s going to happen has probably already happened. Like, when I went back, I was talking to this John kid, right. And he said he knew me! And not like knew me in a past life or something, but he’d met me when he was ten. Shit, I’d never seen the kid at ten years old! Knew me from when I was like, twenty-one. And I was like, damn! Twenty-one? I’m fuckin’ fifteen, man! So whatever my decisions regarding time traveling affect, they have already been affected. So we are now living in the effect.”

She snorts, and you watch through your peripheral vision as she turns to you, leaning her elbow on the ground for support. “That didn’t even make any sense! I mean, it kinda did, but not enough to really make you sound like you know what you’re talking about!”

You shrug. “I’m pretty confident with this.”

“You only just learned about time traveling _last night._ ”

“So? According to you, I was the Knight of Time in a past life. And there’s something deep inside of me that says, ‘Shit, I know what I’m doing.’”

“Ugh!” she exclaims, pounding the floor with her fists again. “Look! You experimented during Sburb! You definitely didn’t know what you were doing because there were tons of dead Daves according to you! You said in the game that you were sick and tired of seeing dead Daves and you weren’t going to time travel ever again!”

“Yeah, yeah, but I bet I changed my mind right? You can’t hold me to a promise I made in a past life anyway, Jade. That shit’s not cool.”

She sighs, falling back down on the ground and staring skyward. “Just let me at least help you practice. You probably didn’t mean to come back at that moment, did you?”

“A Strider never does what they don’t intend,” you reply, at last turning to face her, “but some practice would be nice.”

A sigh escapes her mouth for what must be the umpteenth time as she stands. “Yeah, alright, stupid.” She extends her hand downward to assist you up, face exasperated but more than a little amused. “Let’s get started.”

You grip her hand tightly, smirking.


End file.
